


Doubt

by babybrotherdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Episode: s12e17 The British Invasion, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 03:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/babybrotherdean
Summary: Mary doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve a monster like the one they’ve worked so hard to shape him into.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ...and this is the one I wrote after seeing the episode and deciding to read a lot of things into Ketch's body language and tone of voice. I have a lot of feelings about him.

She’s warm under his hands, and softer than any hunter has a right to be. She settles careful and breathless on top of him and they both lose track of time between the heat of their bodies and the whiskey on their breath, clothes abandoned with more care than they take once they get their hands on each other and the chain around her neck becomes suddenly absent.

Mary is too good for this, Ketch is sure. Too good for him, in the way she fights past the weariness he can see in her eyes to fight for what hunters typically don’t. She still has something to believe in, thoughts and feelings and morals that are all her own; the same kind that they scraped out of him so long ago, leaving this raw, empty space that she reaches inside and soothes like it’s a plea written across his forehead. A weakness.

_Alone._

It rings through his head again with the gunshot that kills Mick _(remembers Mick shouting just now, shouting about the Code that had him kill his best friend, and he feels-)_ and all of his control goes into evening his expression and biting his tongue and not visibly mourning the man who is bleeding out on the floor.

Mary doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve a monster like the one they’ve worked so hard to shape him into.

“Good for you,” he tells her when she stands up to him, with her passion and her ambition and her love for her family all coming through her voice, and he’s too soft here, too soft in the way he looks at her and the way that he wishes she would stay a little longer. Mary has more than this; more than the hellish existence that hunting and the old men in charge have wrought upon him, more than the genocide he’s expected to lead and the ruthless efficiency that’s his only defining trait. She’s more than Ketch could ever hope to be, and God, he wants to hold on tight.

But Mary doesn’t belong to him, because Mary wears an old ring on a chain around her neck, and she leaves him behind to seek out her two sons, instead. Mary isn’t his, and she never will be, because Mary is better than lingering alongside a monster. A dog, loyal only to its master and following every order without a heartbeat’s hesitation. Without an ounce of doubt, but- but.

Mary Winchester leaves him in a cloud of confusion, the taste of her lips lingering on his and her confidence still ringing in his ears, and for the first time since he was a boy- a young, scared boy, a boy taught to follow orders and hide feelings and kill, kill, _kill_ \- he finds himself asking questions. He finds himself wondering about the other options.

_“Assimilate or eliminate.”_

He finds himself feeling doubt.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
